


only you can cool my desire

by janie_tangerine



Series: springsteen-related tumblr prompts [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bruce Springsteen References, Car Sex, Cars, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Implied Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Tumblr Prompt, Woman on Top, implied abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 23:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Brienne is the local mechanic and Jaime shows up in her shop maybe too often.





	only you can cool my desire

**Author's Note:**

> So, during the aforementioned Springsteen prompt taking in september, an anon wanted _I'm on fire_ with specific, _Can we get a mechanic!Brienne Fic for the Bruce birthday? Maybe she repairs Jaime's car 👀_, and who am I to say no, so before you go, if you haven't seen it already I would suggest to check out the video for [I'm on fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrpXArn3hII) [[x](https://genius.com/Bruce-springsteen-im-on-fire-lyrics)] because that's about the basis of this plot XD tldr: this is 100% porn with very vague plot and if you look at the video you'll guess exactly where it's going. ;) the title is from the song in question, nothing else belongs to me, I'll saunter back downwards now.

1.

“He’s here again!”

Brienne _doesn’t_ scramble from under the busted Ford she’s working on as her boss walks by because she has _some_ dignity and the last thing she wants it bang her head against the car’s side while talking to Brynden Tully - as in, said boss -, because Jaime Lannister is into their shop _again_ for the… third time in two weeks.

So she stays where she is until she hears footsteps coming by.

Then she slides from under the car, finding herself in front of Jaime Lannister, who is in turn standing in front of his bright red and gold Cadillac.

“What have you done to that poor car this time?” She asks, trying to sound casual as usual while they pretend to argue over how much he brings it over to their shop while her heart is pounding so hard it would be embarrassing as hell, if she didn’t have it under control.

He looks down at her, his green eyes meeting hers as he half-smiles in a way that she never quite figured out. It doesn’t look like he’s _happy_, but it doesn’t even feel like he’s making fun of her.

Which certainly hasn’t hurt, when it comes to Brienne’s ridiculous damned crush on him.

He shrugs. “I might have taken a wrong turn, and she did nothing to me, thank you very much.” He moves away. The left front light is broken and the car’s body is slightly bumped on that side, and the paint is cracked. She doesn’t ask against what.

“I see,” she says, standing up and wiping grease from her hands, going towards the car. She takes a better look.

“I think we do have the paint,” she says. “I don’t know if we have the light, though. Is two days good?”

Suddenly, his smile falls. His lips thin. “Would - would it be a problem to have it ready by tomorrow?” He asks, and - that’s strange. He always is a lot more easy going than this. And he never had a problem with _timing_, he always jokes about her work being good enough that he could wait days for it, and admittedly she had felt warm, _so warm_ at hearing it when there was no joke at her expense coming after it.

She considers it. “If I can find a spare light. I’ll finish on that one and look into it.” She doesn’t tell him she should work overtime. “Do you want me to drive it up over at your place?”

He shakes his head, golden blonde hair falling over his neck in neat curls. “Nah, it’s fine. No need to do that, I’ll come back in the morning. Never change, Tarth.”

She flips him off and he flips her back before moving closer and letting his clean, long fingers drop the keys into Brienne’s dirty hand, and he leaves, and Brienne _hates_ how easy it is to do that and how they fell into it after the third time he came and she told him he really needed to take care of that care better.

Her boss sends her a _knowing _look as Lannister leaves as he grunts something about _him_ at least paying on time.

She goes back under the Ford, resolving to fix the oil leak, but before she tells Brynden she’ll close tonight. 

2.

It’s ten thirty when she finally moves back and looks at her handiwork. She found a spare light somewhere in between the discarded ones they had, and she fixed the body and re-did the paint from scratch. The car looks new.

She looks at the key in her hands, pockets them, closes the door of the garage, locks everything up and heads for the small apartment two blocks from here. She should buy some more furniture, she thinks for the umpteenth time as she walks into the sparse space, but she’s moved six months ago and she barely has the time to breathe since she had spent three months doing overtime in the garage to pay off all the moving expenses, and good thing it’s a small town and there’s just two garages in it, so they do make good money.

She takes a short shower, feeling like she’ll never get grease off her nails, doesn’t bother eating, and crashes inside the bed, thinking that tomorrow morning Lannister will walk inside the shop with that shit-eating grin and he’ll tell her she’s better than any guy he’s ever seen doing that job and so what if her hand has slipped inside the waist of her underwear?

What no one knows but _her_ can’t hurt anybody now, can it?

3.

She wakes up an hour later, she realizes, the sheets soaking wet, same as her hand and her underwear, and so what if it’s the umpteenth time she dreams of kissing Jaime Lannister inside that car and maybe -

Maybe -

She shakes her head, goes to wash her hands, throws her underwear and pajamas inside the dirty laundry chest, and -

She drinks some water, feeling like there’s a freight train running through the middle of her head, a _golden_ freight train with a smile to die for and clean hands and dark red shirts and a busted up car, and before she’s known it she’s gone back to the garage, taken the car, driven it outside, locked down the place again and drove off towards the hills, where she _knows_ all the Lannister family lives. Everyone knows where they live. That villa towers over the entire town, after all.

She drives into the night, thinking that this is _really_ a good car. Leather seats, spacious, a nice wheel, the shift moving like butter under her fingers when she needs it to, and she doesn’t know how Jaime can manage to crash it every other moment or _why_ he doesn’t just drive something smaller if he has to bring it over for repairs every week.

Not that she minds.

At least she gets to see him, doesn’t she -

Brienne shakes her head, hating that it’s been _years_ and she hasn’t learned her lesson yet.

Guys like _him_ don’t care for girls like her.

Especially when their job is fixing cars.

4.

She drives up to the mansion. It’s calm, and she gate is open. She drives inside it, stopping midway between gate and door, figuring she’ll knock, give him the keys and go back on foot. Maybe it’ll clear her head.

It’s a good idea, she decides, and nods to herself, trying to not feel self-conscious about her jeans, working boots and grease-stained shirt. Or better, it’s clean, but the grease just wouldn’t leave regardless of how many times she washed it.

It’s one AM. She walks closer to the door, closer -

“This is the last time,” she hears coming from behind a window, and - the light is on but she can barely see silhouettes, and one is him, she’s sure it’s _him_ -

“Oh, really?” A decidedly more female voice replies. Oh. She thinks it’s his sister. She did come to the shop once, but never walked in. “And what are you going to do, take my keys?”

“Cersei, for - you could be driving with one of the children inside it. You can’t keep on crashing that car every other moment because it’s too large and -”

“I _can_ drive that car fine and I don’t need your authorization,” she says, and she doesn’t sound too happy about it.

“You know someone is going to wonder why _I_ keep on crashing that car and then it’s going to be _my_ license’s problem and not yours?”

“So what? We can afford a driver,” she replies, entirely not worrying. “As if _you_ have that much of an advantage to speak of.”

“Cersei, for - I didn’t lose that hand for a miracle and it was because _you_ insisted I’d take that damned drink when -”

“Well, you could have said no if your tolerance is such a problem,” she shrugs. “I hope it’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

She sees his shoulders slumping. “Should be,” he says, sounding resigned.

“Good. See that you’re good at something, when you want to?”

She moves closer, he shakes his head and leaves, slamming a door behind him, and a minute later the mansion’s door opens as Brienne stays rooted in place, unable to move -

“And what are _you_ doing here?” He asks, walking up in front of her. He looks like he hasn’t slept much. His hair is disheveled. His eyes are red.

Brienne hands him the keys. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep. And drove here anyway.”

“And so what now,” he says, “you’re going to walk?”

“That was the plan.”

He stares at her. His hands are shaking.

He seems to consider something. Then he slams the keys back in her hands.

“I need to be out. Fancy taking me out for a ride?”

Brienne is too surprised to say no. He jumps into the passenger’s seat. She drives off very, very carefully.

5.

“So _you_ aren’t the one crashing this every other day, are you?” She asks, breaking the silence, as they drive off towards the highway.

He snorts. He sounds bitter. “No,” he says, “but I might be taking the rap.”

“You don’t have to,” she says, because _what the hell_?

He snorts again, shaking his head. “It’s sweet of you to say,” he says, “but no, sadly I can’t - run away from it. I guess. But you drive better than she does.”

“I should hope,” she mutters, “or I’d suck at this job now, wouldn’t I?”

He laughs at that, for real, and Brienne’s heart skips a beat again, and then -

“You’re _something, _you know what,” and then his hand is on her wrist -

She pulls over the side of the road.

“What -”

He’s looking at her with bright, bright, _desperate_ green eyes. “Do you think I always come to your shop just because I frankly detest the Kettlebacks?”

“I’m better than any of them,” she says at once, because she knows she is.

“Never said you weren’t, but that one’s closer and Cersei’s chummy with all of them.”

“Well, _she_ is not bringing the car.”

“I know, and she hates it,” he grins. “At least _something_ she can’t tell me how to do,” he whispers, _what_, and then he turns to look at her -

“So, you bring the cars over for all your clients?”

He’s smiling at her in a way she’s seen in so many movies she’s lost count, and all of her instincts say _no_ -

But then she smiles back. Slightly. “No,” she says. “Just for the ones I really like. Why?”

6.

“_Oh_,” he moans from underneath her hands, as he lays down on the car’s backseat, the soft creamy gold leather of it pairing off so _well_ with his golden hair, “_oh_, yes, _fuck_, again -”

Brrienne, who has a hand around his dick and a freight train running through her _blood_, not her head, doesn’t even wait a moment and keeps on jerking him off, her other hand grasping at his hair, her mouth crashing over his, again, and again, and he kisses her with so much need it almost _burns_, and she feels like the both of them are on fire or something _close_ to it as his hips jerk upwards and he meets her touch once, twice, thrice, and again, and _again_, and he moans helplessly under her when she’s not drinking the sounds he’s making with her own mouth.

“Yes,” she says, “yes, sure, what else?”

He kisses her again, his left hand grasping at her hair so tight it almost hurts, one of his leg hooking around the back of her knees, pressing up against her as if he wants to be closer and closer and closer -

“_More_,” he groans, his mouth trailing across the scar on her cheek she got during practice in high school, his tongue finding hers, and then he’s looking up at her with those scalding green eyes and whispering that it’s different, so different, and Brienne has a feeling of _who_ is the other person, and maybe she should be disgusted or worried or _both_, but right now she just reaches up with a hand, touches his face, sees his parted lips and blown up pupils and thinks _I made it happen_, and damn but she’s only had sex a few times with those assholes from high school, but it’s _easy_ with him because he touches her back and kisses her like he wants _her_, and his head in between her legs not long before had felt heavenly, and he had fucking licked her clean after putting his mouth on her wet, wet warm flesh, and -

She holds him closer and he arches into her touch as she moves them so she’s behind him, laying on the backseat, and he’s with his back against her chest, so she can touch him _better_, her fingers jerking him off quick and fast and mercilessly, but she keeps an arm around him, and then -

“This is good,” he groans, and -

“How much?” She asks back, not knowing where she found the force of will to say it.

“_Very_,” he says, and she leans towards his ear, whispers, _so, am I good to you_, and he nods frantically as she jerks him off faster and he’s finally spilling against her hand, and then he whispers _she hasn’t done this in such a long time, she only shows up when she wants me_, and Brienne doesn't need to ask to know who _she_ is, and she knows that Cersei Lannister is married with children and somehow it adds up with what she heard outside the mansion, and Brienne just -

Brienne says nothing, but waits for Jaime to catch his breath and then moves on top of him, her stained hands moving over that golden expanse of tan skin, running over his hips, and decides she’ll use her mouth on him until he’s good to go again, and she thinks _would she do the things I would,_ and somehow from the way he moans enthusiastically when she starts, she thinks that maybe no, _she_ wouldn’t.

But Brienne -

Brienne wants to, oh, she _wants_ to, and so she lets that fire consume her as his hands tentatively touch her hair and her own grasp his hips to make sure he doesn’t move too much, thinking that her desire won’t cool much too soon, but his won’t either and the car is comfortable and the night is young -

She bends down and takes him in her mouth, again, her fingers drawing circles against his hips.

Maybe she smiles again when he screams her name in the middle of the empty highway.

She’ll try to make it worth his time.

Oh, she most definitely _will._

End.


End file.
